


warmth is your breath against my shoulder

by thepeskyunicorn



Category: History Boys (2006)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, the obligatory sharing of body heat fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5540585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeskyunicorn/pseuds/thepeskyunicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I think," he whispers, voice hardly heard, "I think it would be best if we shared a bed. Body heat and all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	warmth is your breath against my shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> written for thb secret santa!

"I swear, Scrippsy, my fingers are about to turn blue and drop off."

Scripps gritted his teeth, trying to stop another wave of shivering, and pulled the blanket tighter across his body as he turned a page of his book. "Don't be so melodramatic, Pos. That's Dakin's job." He could almost feel the glare Posner shoots him from where he was huddled across the room.

The radiator in their pitifully small room was not working again, leaving them to freeze when the inevitable winter chill seeps in through the bare walls and thin windows. There is only so many hit cups of tea a person could drink, so they settled in the respective corners of their room, coping in the best way they could. Namely, with Posner grumbling and Scripps bearing the chill with stoic grimness.

There was ten full minutes of silence; nothing but the sound of Scripps’s turning pages and the soft rasping of fabric against a turning body and Scripps was starting to get worried. For all his talk about Posner’s whinings, it was comforting and constant in a way that other things were not, like the broken radiator or the freezing air sweeping in. He fights the temptation to turn around and almost breathes a sigh of relief when Posner finally speaks, lips blue and teeth chattering.

"I think," he whispers, voice hardly heard, "I think it would be best if we shared a bed. Body heat and all."

This time, Scripps did turn around. There was a delicate moment when their eyes meet, the tiny room seeming to shrink smaller as he hold his gaze, observant of the odd look in Posner’s eyes.

Scripps doesn’t answer. There was nothing to say, and he was always better with the written word than those spoken anyway. And in the absence of the smooth spine of his nameless notebook to stroke, he wills his hands to stop trembling (it must be from the cold, he reasons) and lifts the side of his blanket as a welcome.

Posner crossing the wide expanse of negative space between them took a heartbeat and an eternity and Scripps felt a curl of heat pooling in him, a warmth he came to quickly associate as a uniquely Posner feeling.

'No one knows about this,' Posner’s muffled voice calls out sleepily from where his head is tucked to his chest.

Scripps smiles, tucking the memory between his ribs, close to his heart. 'Of course not.'


End file.
